


Medication

by Quantumphysica



Series: The Crack Book Of Arda [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aiwendil's Cake Is Involved Again, And Insight, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Námo's Mind Is Unfathomable, Snow In Valinor, You Will Feel Sorry For Melkor, unexpected intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantumphysica/pseuds/Quantumphysica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the debacle with the cake that caused Manwë to cover all of Valinor in snow, Varda decides to get rid of Aiwendil's baked goods forever… by throwing all of it into the Void. In her frenzy she has forgotten one little thing however… </p>
<p>Morgoth.</p>
<p>Or, the story of how the end of the world really began. It will not be what you expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medication

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot dedicated to CrackinAndProudOfIt (from FF.Net), and it follows directly to the last chapter of "Involuntary Admission". If you haven't read that, here is what you should know:
> 
> Aiwendil the Maia (also known as Radagast) bakes a mean spacecake. After eating an entire one of those, Manwë covered the whole of Valinor in snow, causing a severe climatological disturbance with a fierce winter season as a consequence… and then he passed out for at least a year, so the elves couldn't do anything but sit out the winter. Some things in this will make more sense if you read Involuntary Admission (especially the very last paragraph, it's sort of an Inside-Namo's-Mind Joke) but you can still enjoy this without having read that.

Winter in Valinor was something unheard of. Of course, there usually was some sort of turning of the seasons to give all plants the chance to grow and blossom, and there was always snow on the peaks of the Pelori… but winter, actual winter with all the blizzards, frostbite and logistic trouble that came with it, was something only the Noldor had ever experienced. Hence why hardly anyone knew what to do when out of the blue the whole weather system of the Blessed Lands turned into a freezing cold mess of snowstorms and icy hail.  
  
Elves were pretty resilient and able to withstand cold, but that didn't mean that the winter didn't do them anything, on the contrary. The healers soon had their hands full of elves with frozen extremities and hypothermia, mostly due to completely unsuitable clothing. Especially among the Vanyar quite a few elves lost a toe or two because of their initial reluctance to wear anything other than sandals and light footwear... There were even a few casualties due to the cold, people who broke through thin ice and drowned, became buried under an avalanche, or lost their road in the snow and froze to death, and Namo refused to re-embody anyone until the unexpected winter was over…  
  
The winter was definitely an extreme calamity for which everyone was ill prepared, and so it would go into the stories… but this didn't mean that it was all bad. In the frozen bay of Alqualondë it came to a second historic encounter between Teleri and Noldor, but this time the weapon of choice were snowballs, and no one had any plans to leave. In the end they didn't have a clue of who had actually won the fight, but as elves of both groups sat together and shared hot soup, no one really cared about that.  
  
The Noldor had several interesting things to share with their brethren, from the concept of tying planches under your feet to glide over the snow, to the slightly more risky concept of doing the same with metal blades to glide over ice. It didn't take long before games and competitions burst loose and variations were discovered. While the older elves used the planches to sedately glide over the snow, younger elves made the streets unsafe by reaching high velocity with both feet tied to one plank… much to the dismay of the healers, who now also had to deal with an influx of broken bones and concussions.  
  
The cold brought people together, and in the face of the snow old grudges were (temporarily?) set aside. Race and heritage suddenly didn't matter much anymore; bundled up in winter clothes and covered in white all seemed equal, and so it happened that the basis of many an unlikely friendship was laid over a snowball fight, a snow-plank-accident, or a shared plate of roast meat…  
  


* * *

  
It is said that when the Trees were slain by Melkor and Ungoliantë, the Valar remained seated in the Mahanaxar, overthinking things while the Noldor rebelled and went on their kinslaying ways. Now faced with a second continent-wide catastrophe, it showed that they had obviously learned from their past mistakes. The Fell Winter as it was already called was no less a disaster than the Darkening of Valinor many ages before, but this time the Valar immediately sprung into action to maintain the order and help as many elves as possible.  
  
For one of the first times apart from meetings, Vairë and her Maiar voluntarily set aside their work and left the Halls of Mandos, to give storm-aid to the people of Tirion. In a quickly set up manufactory they produced blankets, winter clothes and other necessary items to survive the Helcaraxë-like temperatures and copious amounts of snow that had hit the city of the Noldor. Soon enough they got the company of many Noldorin ladies and their looms, and their help was more than welcome because not only Tirion was in need of winter garb…  
  
Yavanna had mostly worried about her plants freezing and her animals dying, but as soon as she had placed all vulnerable shrubbery and wildlife in hibernation, she bit her teeth and ordered many trees to be felled for lumber and firewood. Tulkas and Oromë assisted the Sylvan and Sindar settlements in their forests with the clearing of snow and the winter-proofing of their half-open talans, and in Aulë's Mansions, Nessa and Vana oversaw the cooking of endless amounts of hot soup. It was most likely the first and only time that the Smith Vala would allow his forges to be used for culinary purposes.  
  
Of all the Valar, only Varda had had a less than helpful response to the whole debacle. After putting her drugged husband in bed –where he would probably stay for the rest of the year, if her prognosis was any good- the Star Queen had rushed to the Pastures of Yavanna, where Aiwendil's little bakery was located. She had stormed in, and before anyone had been able to stop her she had gathered all the Maia's finished cakes and ran off with them. With the speed of mere thought she had taken her loot up into the skies, and before the stunned eyes of Eärendil and his wife she had kicked open the Doors of Night, dumped the baked goods into the Void, and closed the Doors again before anything –or anyone- could escape. "Elimination of dangerous commodities" was all the explanation the mariner had received for the bizarre behaviour of his Queen.  
  
After that she had gone to the Gardens of Lorien to lament on her misery. Irmo and Nienna listened to Varda's frenzied complaining, and because of the somewhat incoherent narrative it took a while before they fully realized what exactly the Valie had done…  
  
"Oh, with all the chaos those things triggered you would almost think Morgoth himself invented them! Thankfully they're gone now, and no one will ever eat them again! I put them with the other spawn of evil, and if that Maia doesn't want to end up there too he better not make a single one of those cakes again!"  
  
Irmo raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You… you did what?"  
  
"I threw those evil, poisoned cakes in the Void! Hah! They won't cause us any more trouble!"  
  
Nienna and Irmo exchanged worried looks.  
  
"How many cakes… did you throw in exactly?"  
  
"Oh, all of them! ALL of them!"  
  
Nienna's mouth dropped open.  
  
"Oh no…"  
  
"What? It's for the best, you know. No one should eat things like that, look at what it made my dear husband do!"  
  
The crying Valie disbelievingly whispered,  
  
"This could be the end of the world…"  
  
"Ah Nienna, don't be ridiculous, it's not…"  
  
Irmo sharply interrupted.  
  
"Varda… have you forgotten WHO is in the Void, at the moment?"  
  
The Star Queen looked uncomprehendingly at the Master of Dreams, until it dawned on her too and her eyes widened in panic. She grasped for breath.  
  
"Oh Eru… What have I done?"  
  
She immediately wanted to get up, but Irmo pushed her back in the soft chair.  
  
"You have done enough for now, I think. You should rest a bit."  
  
If not for Varda's confused and troubled state he probably wouldn't have been able to do what he did, but as it was he had very little trouble making the Valie fall asleep. As soon as she slept, Nienna grabbed her brother's arms.  
  
"You have to do something! If Melkor eats those cakes, who knows what will happen?"  
  
"There is nothing we can do. We can only alert Eärendil to be extra vigilant, and keep in mind that battle could break loose."  
  
It would be extremely inconvenient if Morgoth decided to begin the Dagor Dagorath now, while the whole of Valinor was held in the grip of a fierce winter season and no one's mind was on warfare, Irmo thought to himself. It would be just like him to do something like that, the bastard.  
  
"That is NO solution, brother, and I REFUSE to believe that is all we can do!"  
  
"Now don't get angry, Nienna… it's only for the best that we keep this quiet and…"  
  
Nienna frowned and harshly wiped away the frozen tears from her cheeks.  
  
"Eru damned brother, I never took you for a coward! If you won't do anything, then I will!"  
  
The Valie of Pity and Mercy didn't often show her combative side, but when she did… she was a force to be reckoned with. She took off with an uncharacteristic yet determined scowl, and Irmo couldn't do anything but bury his face in his hands and pray to his Father for strength...  
  


* * *

  
It was her fate to be underestimated. The weeping Lady of Sorrows, always sad and feeling sorry for everyone, even for the worst of all evils… After all, she was the one who had pleaded for Morgoth, a fact that none of her brethren had lightly forgotten. Afterwards they had always considered her judgement to be… skewed. Not even her own brothers took her completely seriously anymore when she came to them with concerns; they thought her naïve and a bad judge of character on top of that.  
  
They were wrong, but Nienna didn't blame them for their ignorance.  
  
In the days before creation, when they had listened to each other's Music and tried to understand what it was about, not many had hearkened to her Song. It had lacked much in majesty, splendour and mystery, especially in comparison to the Music of the others, and as such her brethren had been largely deaf to what she Sang about. That was why they did not understand her, and Nienna didn't have the heart to hold it against them.  
  
It didn't take away that Pity and Mercy weren't marks of weakness; it required a strong and steady mind to be able to forgive, and a deep insight in a person's being to be able to truly feel pity. It was that insight that had led her to that ill-advised plea.  
  
When she had pleaded for Morgoth, it was because she had seen into his fëa and witnessed the sheer destruction there, seen the grievous injuries he hid below his pride and anger. She had been honestly amazed that their fallen brother was still capable of standing straight and speaking, while his fëa literally hung apart in shreds… and she had so hoped that he would be able to let go of all the rage and resentment he carried with him. She had wanted to believe that if only someone would have mercy on him and show him kindness, he would be able to find healing.  
  
She had not misjudged Melkor's character; her error was in not knowing the power that fear could have over someone. Although she of all the Valar understood fear the best, she did not feel it, and as such she had gravely underestimated its impact. Melkor had been too terrified of the pain he would face to let go, too proud and angry to truly give in, and too mistrusting of them to believe that they would show him anything but cruelty… so instead of finding healing, he had nursed and fed his wrath until it filled and consumed him whole. If he had listened to their Songs as well, back in the days before Time, he might have remembered that cruelty was not in their nature, and that needless suffering brought them no pleasure… Unfortunately he had only heard himself back then, so all he now knew was the darkness that he had Sung into being. Nienna could think a thousand times how sad it was that her brethren didn't really understand her or her task on Arda, but much sadder was Melkor, who for all his knowledge truly didn't understand a thing of the world.  
  
Those thoughts and many others travelled through the Valie's mind when she entered the Void. Its nothingness was unsettling, and she shivered when she let the emptiness enclose her. She couldn't really describe it; it was dark, but it wasn't the darkness that came with the absence of light. It was a big, gaping non-existence. Even now, having only just entered it, she felt it tug at her, almost as if it was attempting to pull her apart. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for someone to be stuck here forever… Her musings were broken by a sound. Not a physical one, but a mental cry that cut into her fëa like a knife. She immediately followed the direction the sound came from, and came upon a rather shocking scene…  
  


* * *

  
Curled on a ball in the middle of the Void was Morgoth. Melkor. Angainor was wrapped tightly around his form, and the Valie could see bloody gashes where the chain had dug into his flesh. The hröa he had bound himself to was emaciated and injured, not only by the chains but also by what appeared to be scratch-marks of his own nails. He shivered and trembled, and as Nienna approached she caught his unrestrained and incoherent thoughts.  
  
"…Hurts _hurts_ hurtsAAARGH! Scary  **SCARY THINGS** … they will EAT ME! so many many  _Why am I here? I'm cold_ AAAARGH! it hurts hurts make it STOP! I hate you! I hate you so much! No please, leave me alone, GO AWAY!  _So cold_ … It burns, it b-u-r-n-s they are EATING me! _Everything hurts…_ "  
  
Tears ran anew over her face and she had to restrain herself as she watched the scene. She didn't know if this was the effect of Aiwendil's baking or simply the effect of Melkor's long stay in the Void, but either way she wanted to take the miserable heap of Vala in her arms and cradle him until the nightmares left him alone. Angainor wasn't supposed to be so painfully constricting that it caused injury, but Nienna knew that Aulë had made the chain to tighten in case Melkor showed signs of breaking free. Obviously the chain interpreted the fallen Vala's psychotic distress as such, subsequently making things worse. And then there was Melkor himself, panicky clawing at his own skin to fend off imaginary attackers… It was a heart-breaking sight. For a while the Valie pondered over what she should do… but inside she already knew.  
  


* * *

  
"Sssh… be still…"  
  
Nienna crouched down next to Melkor and carefully reached out with her mind to his. It was dangerous, more dangerous than anything she had ever done before, but she felt she had to try it.  
  
"Trust me…"  
  
"…Cold… cold  **burns** … don't want to go LEAVE ME! but not staying and _scared_ … so _alone_ …"  
  
All Melkor uttered was complete nonsense, and yet it wasn't. This was what Nienna had expected him to be like when she had seen his ravaged fëa for the first time: disjointed, broken and terrified. She softly stroked him with the tendrils of her mind, crying over every gash and tear that she felt in the fabric of his being.  
  
"Listen to me… Sssh… You're not alone…"  
  
It took time, lots of time, but time had no meaning in the Void so Nienna didn't take notice of it; all she concentrated on was Melkor's shattered mind that she carefully pried from the clutches of delusion. It might have seemed like an impossible task given the state he was in, but eventually Nienna managed to make the Dark Vala relax enough for the chains to loosen their choking hold on him. Now she also dared to actually touch him, and she softly patted his thin, matted hair.  
  
"… everywhere… so  _cold_ … Didn't know… it was a  **trap** … pain, hurts so much… burns… _everything hurts now…_ "  
  
Nienna tilted Melkor's head back from its position on his knees, and saw the odd glimmer of Yavanna's herbs in his eyes. So it had been the cakes after all… It wasn't that strange, when she thought about it. She had experienced it herself; the herbs made your control slip, erased all complicated thoughts from your mind and made you think and behave in an almost child-like manner. For most of them this wasn't unpleasant, but on Melkor, to whom control and "complicated thoughts" where the only things standing between him and insanity, the cake had had a disastrous effect. He was very much like a child now indeed; a very ill and frightened child that didn't understood a thing of what was happening to him.  
  
"It's all right now. I will care for you."  
  
His answer made her heart clench.  
  
 _"Why?"_  
  
How could she ever begin to explain that to him, if even her brothers in fëa didn't understand it? Nienna decided to go with terms she thought Melkor would comprehend.  
  
"Because I want to."  
  
"Oh." As an afterthought, the Vala added, "Want much. Scary want. Eats  _everything_."  
  
Once you learned to read between the lines of the nonsensical babble, it was surprisingly honest, Nienna thought. Probably the most honest Melkor had ever been in his entire life…  
  
"Close your eyes, it will help. Try to sleep."  
  
"Scary THINGS come.  **Eat me**. Never sleep."  
  
"Sssh… I will protect you from the scary things. Just rest."  
  
"Please no. Hurts –pain- everywhere, all… NO and  _scared, cold,_  no don't please can't  _hurts_ …"  
  
Melkor's mental voice was panicked and very much like a young elfling's, and the Valie could see how the chains immediately tightened again, reopening his wounds. Before the train of rambling thoughts could escalate, Nienna wrapped her arms around the Dark Vala and pulled him close. He was too weak to resist it. His blood stained her dress but she didn't care; she stroked his head and held him in a warm embrace.  
  
"Sleep. No one will hurt you here. I will care for you."  
  
Melkor's broken mind seemingly had trouble processing what had happened, and he stared at her with glazed eyes full of incomprehension. Nienna softly rocked him and whispered words of comfort until his eyes fell shut in exhaustion, and the herbs finally sent his broken mind to oblivion. When she was certain he was no longer conscious enough to sense her probing, she began to examine the extent of his injuries. She cried bitter tears over what she found, because it made her realize that Melkor would never really recover from this. The Valie of Mercy wasn't as skilled in the healing of damaged minds or broken fëar as her brothers were, but she knew enough of both arts to see that even if the Dark Vala would be healed, he would be forever tarnished. His mental scars would be much like his physical ones, healed but always aching. It seemed to her that with his marring of Arda, Melkor had done at least as much harm to himself…  
  


* * *

  
"She just ran off!"  
  
"How do you mean, she ran off?"  
  
Irmo raised his hands in the air in frustration.  
  
"She said I was a coward, and that if I wouldn't do anything about it, she would!"  
  
"You don't think that…"  
  
"Even she isn't foolish enough to just fling herself in the Void on a whim."  
  
Estë looked worriedly at her husband.  
  
"You think? We couldn't find her anywhere…"  
  
"Well, if she has gone to the Void, someone has to go and check on her."  
  
Namo shook his head.  
  
"You greatly underestimate the wisdom of your sister, Irmo. If she has gone into the Void she will have had a good reason for it."  
  
"It's not a matter of wisdom! I would never question Varda's wisdom, but she still thought it a good idea to throw those accursed cakes to Morgoth! Wisdom doesn't warrant good decisions, especially not when emotions run high!"  
  
Namo looked at Estë and his brother and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"If that is so… what do you suggest?"  
  


* * *

  
A slowly building, burning heat woke Nienna from the slight daze she had entered. For a moment she was stunned that she had let her attention slip, given the situation that she was in, but that thought immediately faded when she identified the source of the unnatural warmth. It was not something she had ever thought or wished to see…  
  
Fëar were possibly the most indestructible thing in Eä, and although they could be wounded, they had the ability to heal over time. However, just like wounds of the flesh, extensive wounds of the fëa could give rise to wound-fever. The magnitude of the injuries required for this phenomenon to occur had to be enormous, for although Nienna had seen many gravely damaged fëar, the wound-fever was only known to her through Song. She had never witnessed it in anyone… until now. Melkor was burning up, and his unfocused eyes shone with that dreaded illness. Nienna now knew that she had been right, that no one but their Father would be able to heal their fallen brother. All she could do was offer him a bit of comfort. Thoughts of his evil didn't plague her anymore; the Valie of Mercy, who knew suffering more than anything, knew that Melkor was paying in tenfold now for every one of his misdeeds…  
  
The cake had sundered the ties that held the Vala's mind and fëa together, and as his defences had broken down under the influence of the drugs, his torn fëa had tried to begin healing. For ages Melkor had kept his fëa from healing; at first because he had proudly held on to his wrath and envy, then because he had been too frightened to let go, and eventually because he must have realized that at that point letting go would only make things worse. And worse it was. Before, Melkor's mind-speech had been disorganized yet somehow still making sense, while now it was completely untranslatable, using an osanwë of feelings and sensations instead of words. All that Nienna could tell from it was that the Dark Vala's fëa was in unimaginable agony…  
  
Maybe her brethren were right, and she did make decisions too rashly, too naively and based on emotion… the thought passed through Nienna's mind but she didn't pay it heed. She had made her decision already. It was foolish and dangerous, but something also told her that it was the good thing to do. She brought Melkor as close to her own fëa as the situation allowed, and wrapped her own being around his in a way that could almost be called intimate. In that odd entanglement she felt his fear and pain, and tried to soothe it as well as she could. It was –and now she finally, truly understood what that was- frightening. It was dark and raw and many other things that the Valie of Mercy had only known in Song and never in Being, and confronted so personally with all that she had no choice but to understand it. To any of the other Valar the experience would have been damaging and traumatizing, but to Nienna, who had known suffering long before she had ever seen or experienced it, it was eye-opening and learning…  
  


* * *

  
If not for the sequence of unlikely events that had brought him to where he now was, he wouldn't have remembered. He had buried the recollection deeply in dark recesses of his mind, to be forgotten forever, and he had nearly succeeded. He had denied its existence until he had believed his own denial and thought it truth… But, when in the throws of fever and anguish he suddenly found himself surrounded (held, _cared for_ ) by something ( _someone_ , SHE –stillthere _why_ -), the memory was unearthed from the darkness.  
  
It was his first memory. The very first memory of Eä, because before there hadn't been anyone to remember. (Eru didn't remember, He just  **Knew**.) He remembered bright, pure light (not  **burning** ), and the feeling of being held, being safe and cared for and  _loved_. He had been full of childlike wonder, and without the slightest hint of  **fear** … He had been  _happy_.  
  
The strength of the memory pulled him from the wordless, mindless abyss of pain that he was in, and filled him with a desperate longing that almost hurt as much…  
  


* * *

  
The Void wasn't there, in the strange space between their minds, and the closeness felt oddly comforting. Nienna held Melkor, and her fëa sang for him until a profound shiver racked through his form, very different from his previous fevered trembling, and she heard his weak mental voice again. His words –the first actual words he thought since the fever had come up- and the broken, longing way he uttered them struck her with deep sorrow…  
  
 _"Want to go home."_  
  
She understood it, although she would never be able to explain it to anyone else.  
  
"I know."  
  


* * *

  
In the space between their minds, his being held in a soothing embrace by hers, Melkor regained thoughts. And again, he asked that question.  
  
 _"Why?"_  
  
"Because I want to."  
  
"You will  _leave_. Alone again, cold. Worse then."  
  
"I know."  
  
He was silent. She knew? She knew.  
  
 _"Hate me…?"_  
  
It was not a question and not a statement, but something hanging in between.  
  
"No, I don't hate you." And she added, "You know that."  
  
He did.  
  
"Will  **hate**  you. Everything  **worse**. Cold hurts  **burns**  need hate scorn  **weak**  fails…"  
  
He stopped himself, realizing somehow that he was failing to confer an understandable message. She calmly caressed him.  
  
"Maybe I will deserve your hate. Maybe we all do, in a way."  
  
He felt so unpleasantly warm and tired, and thinking in words hurt. Everything hurt. He curled closer to her and weakly managed,  
  
 _"No want to hate you."_  
  
Sleep seemed so wonderful now, in her safe, caring arms… but if he went to sleep now, she would be gone, and he would be alone again. He was afraid… And that too she seemed to know.  
  
"Ssssh… It's all right… Just let go."  
  
Bit by bit she stroked his aching mind to sleep, and he couldn't resist the gentle touch. He gave in to it and allowed her to caress away the words and thoughts, until his head was empty and his mind so far gone that he didn't feel the pain anymore…  
  


* * *

  
Nienna cried, because she knew.  
  
She would leave the Void, and the wound-fever would return to Melkor's fëa, wrecking him until the little that was still whole and unspoiled in him would become bitter and broken. His memories would bend and twist in the heat of the fever, and what kindness he had known would turn into cruelty in his mind, what hope he had had would become resentment. And then one day, he would master the sickness and forge it into such wrath that it could break his chains, and that would be the beginning of the end. And she knew, she knew that not Varda but she herself was responsible for that; she knew that the mercy she had shown him now would prove to be the key to his eventual escape.  
  
Nienna couldn't bring herself to regret it. Melkor lay asleep in her arms, his bony fingers entwined with hers, and she still felt the dark yet reassuring closeness of their fëar. The key to his escape it might be, but it would also be the key to his redemption, eventually. The end would come anyway. Maybe like this, there could be a little hope for Melkor too, even if it was only the promise that his pain would end.  
  


* * *

  
Eärendil wouldn't say that he had a boring existence… but well, his social life was hardly worth mentioning; the Doors of Night weren't known for their busy traffic after all. His only somewhat-constant companion was his wife Elwing, and she was a bird so much more often than not that when he really needed to get something off his chest, the Mariner found himself addressing the Silmaril. This was not something he would ever tell someone, but given that the whole problem was lack of a someone to tell things to he didn't think it mattered much. Not to mention that the Silmaril actually did a better job at listening to his troubles than a lot of people he had known.  
  
Knowing all that, it was rather exceptional that in a relatively short span of time, Eärendil had quite a few people visiting his ship to do something beyond the Doors. First Queen Varda, who had been on a mission to discard what had looked like a pile of exquisitely iced cakes into the Void, then Lady Nienna, who had politely greeted him and then quickly disappeared behind the Doors of Night (and she had yet to re-emerge from them, something the Mariner found quite worrisome), and now the Valie's two brothers, Lord Irmo and Lord Namo, were standing on his deck.  
  
"Greetings, Eärendil."  
  
"We are looking for our sister."  
  
"You haven't seen her by any chance?"  
  
The two Valar were… well, Eärendil had never thought that they looked particularly brotherly, but as they now stood before him, they could have been twins. It was a very imposing and somewhat frightening sight…  
  
"Err… She… she went beyond the Doors."  
  
Much to the Mariner's surprise, Irmo triumphantly poked his brother in the side, which diminished his fright factor quite a bit.  
  
"I told you so!"  
  
Namo rolled his eyes, and kept his solemn dignity by answering mentally.  
  
"And I told you I believed you, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Now what do you want me to do?"  
  
"We have to go get her out, of course!"  
  
Namo sighed, but nodded at his younger brother. Irmo had no faith in Nienna's judgement, not after the Trees, and he was convinced that Morgoth would do horrible things to her. The Doomsman on the other hand didn't think that their sister was in any real danger, but at the moment he didn't feel like explaining why he thought so to Irmo. And so they bid the completely baffled Mariner goodbye, and went beyond the Doors in search of Nienna…  
  


* * *

  
She had found it hard to leave, no matter how much her whole being had longed to be out of the Void. She still remembered the utterly devastated feeling in Melkor's fëa when she disentangled their hands and broke their contact… In that moment, she had started the countdown to the End, and she knew it well enough.  
  
"I have caused our downfall."  
  
"Things happen. I think it is very possible that everything has happened already, dear sister."  
  
Namo softly smiled at her surprised look. He often said cryptic things like that; Nienna didn't think that anyone but Vairë truly understood what he meant. Nevertheless, she asked,  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
The Doomsman hesitated. Trying to explain Time to someone who could not perceive it as he did was like trying to explain colours to a person born blind; no words could truly capture the concept. Not wanting to insult his sister however, he said,  
  
"Progress comes from discord, sister. It is a horribly beautiful thing, and every day I observe it I understand it more and less at the same time. Everything happens as it is supposed to, so in a way it has all already happened."  
  
Nienna felt that her brother divulged something very important to her, a detail of his mysterious Song that few had understood. It was as if a frightening insight sat on the edge of her mind, and it disquieted her.  
  
"But… can't we make choices then? Do we not have free will?"  
  
"Of course we can, and of course we do. We make the choices we are supposed to make, and our free will is exactly as it should be. We must try not to think too deeply on that, sister. We are the children of our Father's thought, and Eä is the World That Is. Some things are simply fixed; in Time, in Space, and in Being."  
  
Sitting on the deck of Vingilot in the light of the Silmaril, Nienna and her brother stared at the starry sky where the Doors were hidden. Eventually the Valie of Mercy remarked, in a sudden bout of crystal clear understanding,  
  
"We are all chained, aren't we? Not just Melkor."  
  
"The very term "chained" requires there is something such as "free", dear sister. I rather think of it as "with purpose". We are as we are made, and there is a certain comfort in that."  
  
"There was never any comfort in it for Melkor."  
  
"He knew before all of us what you have just learned, and chose to fight rather than to accept."  
  
"But even his choice to fight was fixed in his being."  
  
"Progress from discord."  
  
Nienna thought about that. She couldn't bring it under words, this strange insight that had come to her through her brother and her unexpectedly intimate contact with Melkor. It filled her with awe for their Father, but also with sadness, and even a tiny hint of powerless indignation. A little uncertain, she asked,  
  
"I feel… I feel angry, brother. Has… has my contact with Melkor tainted me?"  
  
"It is important to use words that convey what you wish to express. You are as tainted as you are chained, sister. Besides, if growing up doesn't make you angry at some point, you're doing it wrong."  
  
"I will never truly understand you."  
  
"The same goes for me."  
  


* * *

  
In the Gardens of Lorien, Irmo had a strange dream. The memories he had from his trip in Namo's mind mixed with the memories from his sister that he had gained when checking her mind for damage after her stint in the Void, and the end result was a most bizarre vision in which cakes, pie, chains, spider webs, cages and insanity all figured prominently. When he woke and realized what he had dreamed, he began to giggle, much to the concern of his wife.  
  
"Irmo, what is wrong?"  
  
The Master of Dreams managed to stifle his laughter long enough to utter,  
  
"Oh, nothing Estë, nothing at all… I have only just realized that my brother's mind is the most brilliantly enigmatic thing in Eä, and that we have more luck making Aulë hug trees than ever understanding the scope of Namo's foresight."  
  
Estë shook her head, and dearly hoped that her husband hadn't caught the insanity that was apparently contagious among their brethren…

**Author's Note:**

> (Author's Apologies)
> 
> Wow, this turned out entirely different from what I thought to write! I thought to write humor, and BAM! suddenly I had Melkor-feels and deep philosophical thoughts on my hands. I seriously have no control over what I write… (Hope it doesn't disappoint you, CrackinAndProudOfIt, although it probably wasn't what you expected…)
> 
> As for the explanation of some things;
> 
> Melkor is acting kind of OOC, but… well, imagine the combination of a very bad trip with a very bad infection (And it's his very soul that got infected, I think anyone becomes OOC under that) and you have an explanation. At this point he is so sick and out of it that he's quite desperate for solace from the pain. (Dammit, why does this always happen when I write Melkor? Why do I always have to torment him like this? I am a bad person. *deep sigh*)
> 
> I imagine Vingilot as this epic ship of mithril and crystal and mirrors in which the Silmaril has a special place so that its light can easily spread and be amplified enough to be visible everywhere. (Just saying this because Eärendil is often envisioned carrying the Silmaril himself in some sort of circlet/tiara.)
> 
> My friend Agnes Riemann made the comment that there is a strange parallel between Morgoth in Namo's insane minds cape (in Involuntary Admission) and Morgoth in this story… Hence why I made Irmo realize that Namo somehow already, subconsciously knew of what would happen.
> 
> Feedback? Feedback is so very welcome… :D


End file.
